


Gallery Crawl

by PrincessBastard



Category: SCP Foundation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessBastard/pseuds/PrincessBastard
Summary: I was doing short story practices around an SCP, so I went on the site and hit random. Can't remember the number, but if you think you know, drop it in the comments and I'll see if you got it.Happy spooky season!Enjoy!





	Gallery Crawl

It was beautiful. In my fourteen years as an art critic, I had seen thousands of works that looked into my soul and hundreds of thousands that left me uninterested, unfazed… unimpressed. This past year, there have been an impressive number of street artists changing the boundaries of what’s possible: using stickers and poster paper to create textures, displaying art for all to see outside of the pay-per-view mentality of museums and galleries. This one surpassed more borders and boundaries. It wasn’t just contained by the wall.  
I took a picture of it last week. I don’t know who made it. It just showed up overnight on the apartment building next to my house. She was only in black paint against the white wall, in the shape of two figures hugging? Or maybe a brain? A message that we are intertwined in our crazy, messy minds. I loved it. It felt sloppy and passionate and ALIVE. But it wasn’t gallery-worthy. It wasn’t exceptional, since most art has at least some soul.

The next day, some color was added. It shimmered in the sunlight. The paint looked wet, but was dry and warm to the touch. Now it looked like something new and special. Who would come back and risk getting caught for vandalism just to finish their piece? I had to meet this artist.

That night, I parked my car across the street to watch, like a birdwatcher hiding in a bush. In hindsight, it’s pretty embarrassing. I couldn’t stop myself.  
It moved. It grew. No, she grew. She called to me. I needed her.

I left the car to touch her. My hands felt like a magnet and I couldn’t pull them away from the wall. I begged to be with her, to be part of her.

A black spot appeared on my arm the next day. It glistened and started moving on Friday. I’m not sure if she’s expanded from the wall or if I’ve grown in to her. I just know she’s moving. She wants more.

I’ve deposited dollar bills with black spots at the bank. Lent black pens to my fellow writers. I hope she’s happy with my work. I hope she’s happy with her new world.

I can’t let people see me anymore. They’ll find out about her. My eyes give me away. I can see her in my eyes whenever I look into the mirror. Her color and lines are burned in my eyes.

I can’t sleep. 

I’m not sure when my eyes are open or closed. I always see it. See her. And she is beautiful.


End file.
